Dear Frankie
by Pop Horror
Summary: Frerard.  Every week, Gerard sends a letter to Frankie, the boy he met underneath the cherry blossom tree what feels like a lifetime ago.  Every week, he prays that maybe one day his true love will write back to him...
1. Chapter 1

**Let's get started.**

**So I don't own any of the characters, just the plot, blah de blah de blah...**

**This is kinda weird, I know, and I can write better than this, but I wanted it to feel like you were actually reading _real_ letters from Gerard, so the awkward writing style kinda brings across his personality... If that makes sense...**

**Also, this is only going to have 3, maybe 4 chapters to it, and i'm probably not going to update it that often... Only when I get writers block on Just Let Me Save You... Just to warn yas!**

Dear Frankie,

Sorry it's been a while since I've wrote to you- I've been so busy lately, I just simply couldn't find the time- but now, I promise I'm going to get back into the habit of writing to you every week. Without fail.

So how's life been treating you? How's school been and shit? It's been kinda crappy for me again. I mean, I finally thought people were starting to get bored of teasing me and shit, but suddenly they've found interest I me again. So I've started skipping classes again. It's no big deal really- I mean, there's not much in school for me. So I've being going down to the comic store on the high street instead of classes. It's nice down there. You'd like it. Really cozy and homely and welcoming. And they said they wouldn't tell anyone I was hiding out in there, just as long as I gave them a hand behind the desk and stacking shelves and stuff, which I don't mind, 'cause sometimes they let me pick out some comics for free. There was this really awesome one I got the other day. It's called 'Doom Patrol'. I like it lots, mainly because the characters in it remind me of myself. They're weird and never really fitted in- just like me. Oh, and it's by Grant Morrison. He's my favourite writer. I think you'd like his work. Who's your favourite comic book writer?

Momma's been moaning at me to go out and see some of my friends again. She doesn't realize, _you're _the only friend I've got. She says I should invite some of the guys from school over. She doesn't realize that all of the guys at school hate me. All they ever do is laugh at me and mock me and beat me up. They think I'm weird. But I'm not weird. I'm just not the same as them. Just because I'm quiet and I don't like girls and I prefer to draw and read instead of playing sports or doing drugs. It makes them think they can throw food at me and shove me in lockers and it'll be okay 'cause I'm just the weird kid and I don't feel anything. But they're wrong. I feel everything. And they always call me a faggot, whatever that's supposed to mean. I don't know why they think so fondly of that name. Maybe it's just 'cause they're unimaginative, like monkeys. I often imagine them swinging through the canopy of the jungle and picking bugs from each other's hairy backs. It makes me laugh.

But even though I told her you were the only person that understood me, she still made me go out for lunch with Mikey and his new friend. I've told you about Mikey, my brother, right? I like Mikey. Apart from you, he's the only other person that I'm friends with, but he doesn't count, 'cause he's my brother.

His friend was quite cool though. His name is Raymond, but everyone calls him Ray. He goes to my school, but I'd never really seen him before, so I don't think he'd ever teased me or anything. Which is good, I guess. That means he must be alright, doesn't it? He's in the year below me, which means he's a year older than Mikey. That makes me feel weird, 'cause Mikey's just a little baby and he's not supposed to be friends with anyone but me, never mind being friends with _older_ people. Who knows what they'll do to him? What if they make him drink and do drugs? What if they pressurize him into getting into fights? What if they hurt him if he doesn't? What it they kill him?

I'm getting carried away.

Anyway...

So we all met up at the diner down the road. We arrived first, so we ordered coffee and stuff. We had to wait like fifteen minutes for Ray to get there "'cause the man is notoriously late for everything", which I didn't mind too much, because it gave me time to prepare myself. I guess you could say I get kinda scared about meeting new people or just _any _people in general. I always get really nervous and twitchy and I muck up everything I go to say and I don't make any sense. That's why I like writing to you so much. i feel safe when i write letters to you.

When Ray finally did arrive he didn't do what normal people do to introduce themselves- you know, shake my hand or something- instead he embraced me in this big bear hug thing. It made me feel really awkward, 'cause I'm not too fond of getting close to people. Well, except you. I _really _like getting close to you.

Ray was pretty tall and he had this huge afro thing going on, which I gotta admit, was pretty fuckin' awesome. He let me touch it and it was all soft and fluffy, like a kitten. He was wearing blue jeans with a big rip in them and when he sat down he would always tap his feet to the beat of the music that was playing and his knee would stick out the hole and bob up and down. He was also wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of converse. I was wearing my Iron Maiden shirt, and he told me he liked it and it made me blush a little. I'm not sure why, but it did.

Ray was happy. I know that sounds weird, but it's true. He was constantly laughing and I don't think the grin fell from his face once that whole day. He was making loads of jokes the whole time, alot of which I didn't get 'cause they were 'private jokes' between Ray and Mikey, which made me feel a bit left out, but I didn't mind too much. I'm not a big fan of being the centre of attention. It makes me feel all... what's the word... claustrophobic.

And he said he'd love to hear me sing. Apparently he was going to start a band with Mikey, 'cause he plays guitar and Mikey plays bass, so he wanted to hear me sing, 'cause they needed a front man. I told him I'd sing for him the next time I saw him, but I explained I was already in a band. With you. Mikey rolled his eyes when I said that, which made me annoyed and I wanted to hit him so badly. But I didn't. I don't like being violent... well, not in public anyway!

I should probably be going now. Gotta get some sleep or I'll be cranky in the morning. I'll post this to you tomorrow on my way to the bus stop. I'll write to you again next week, and if you want to write back to me I'd love it, but if you don't that's cool too. You don't have to be shy though. It's just me. It's just 'cause I really miss talking to you. That night underneath the cherry blossom tree in the park feels like so long ago...

Love you lots. Speak to you soon.

Xo g


	2. Chapter 2

**Another chapter! At last! I've gotta say, It's more fun to write this than it is just let me save you, so the last chapter of this will probably be up quite soon! xD**

**So... Read and review guys! :D**

Dear Frankie,

Told you I'd write back in a week! When Gerard makes a promise, he keeps it!

So how's your week been? Anything exciting happened? Or has it just been the same mundane reality of school and homework? Well I went to school this week for a change. There wasn't any reason in particular...

Okay, I lie. I wanted to see if I could see that Ray guy again. I'd never seen him at school before, and I was curious to see what he was like around his other friends- to see if he turned into an asshole or if he was always a genuinely nice guy. It was a bit of a fail though. Throughout the whole week I only came across him once. It was while I was on my way to chemistry. He was walking along the corridor towards me, and as soon as he caught a glimpse of me he began to charge, clearing any obstacles, including people, out of the way as he grabbed me round the waist, picked me up and spiraled me round in the air like a helicopter. I've got to admit, as weird and slightly awkward as it was, it felt kinda nice. I'm not used to getting attention or even a wave from a passerby. It bet getting tripped up or a kick-me sign on my back any day.

But I don't want you to think I'm replacing you. Of course I'm bloody not! Ray is just a friend- he's someone I like, but nothing more. You, however, are my one and only. You are the love of my life. You are _everything_to me. I'm sure I showed that to you that night under the cherry blossom tree, wink, wink...

But school really wasn't worth going back to. Discluding that brief meeting with Ray, it was just the same as normal- slow, painful and torturous. I got teased alot, as usual, but for some reason, they decided to be extra venomous this week.

Like, for example, on Tuesday three of the guys from my P.E class chased me into the woods while we were doing cross country. They cornered me between this huge rock that was overgrown with moss so it was really slippery and this stream, so I couldn't get over it 'cause I didn't want to get wet. And they pushed me against the rock and they started kicking my shins, and my knees buckled underneath me and I fell into the mud and they laughed. They laughed so much. Then they asked if I was still a virgin. And I told them I wasn't. I told them that we had sex underneath the cherry blossom tree. And they laughed even more. And they asked if my ass hurt and I said it didn't because I was on top. But that made them laugh even more. They just laughed and laughed as they kicked me and spat on me and they never stopped laughing. And the laughter hurt more than the actual pain- it sliced through the quiet, restless chatter of the woodlands like a blade, leaving lacerations in my heart. Then, after what felt like an eternity, they stopped laughing. With one last kick, sending me rolling into the stream, and a last "fuckin' emo faggot" they left me there bruised and broken.

So... that little dispute wasn't too fun... the rest of the week wasn't _too_ bad, I suppose... Boring, yes, but nothing else that threatened death upon me... Okay, maybe not death, but alot of serious pain.

Friday was fun though. Mikey brought Ray home after school. He walked home with us instead of getting the bus to the other side of town and he stayed for dinner. We had pizza with ham and pineapple and we drank Dr. Pepper in Mikey's room and we played video games. Ray's really good at video games, especially Guitar Hero.

But he's even better at real guitar. We went down to the basement (where my bedroom is, though I'm sure I've told you that before) and he took that cheap, tacky acoustic that sits pressed against the end of my bed and started playing it. He was honestly _amazing_. The way his fingers tumbled across the frets, it was incomprehensible. Then he asked to hear me sing, which I feared was coming, so I sang that song I wrote. The one I wrote about you, have I told you about it? It's called "Demolition Lovers". Ray said I was an amazing singer, and he asked who I'd wrote the song about, and I said your name. He smiled and said it was cute, but Mikey just grumbled into his cup of coffee, which made Ray look kind of pissed off. He asked Mikey what was wrong, to which he replied with a shrug, so Ray pushed him over onto my bed and teased him for being a "homophobe", whatever that's supposed to mean.

Then Ray started to ask about you. He asked how old you were, and what music you liked and all of that sort of stuff. He asked what you looked like, but I didn't have a photograph, so I showed him one of the drawings I did of you. It was a black and white one that was done in charcoal. He said it was a good drawing and that you were really nice looking, for a guy. He laughed nervously and kept insisting that he "wasn't into that shit". It was pretty funny, although Mikey was deadly silent throughout the whole conversation.

While we're on the subject of photographs, I was wondering if you wanted me to send a photo of myself next week? ...Wait, not photo's like _that!_ Well... I suppose if you wanted i could... Never mind, forget i even said that! I'll just send a normal photo. You can send one if you want too, but you don't need to if you don't want to. Just whatever you feel like doing, y'know? And If you could write back to me this week I would love it! I miss you babe, I really do.

Love you lots. Speak to you soon.

Xo g


	3. Chapter 3

**So here's the last chapter guys! Hope ya's all enjoyed it! ;D**

Dear Frankie,

I'm scared baby. I'm so, so scared.

I've done something bad. Something really bad. And I feel guilty, but more scared, but still guilty... I'll tell you what happened.

Ray stayed over last night. It was fun, though. He came over after school and we spent most of the night watching television. And we stayed up really late and had beer (Ray had brought some over, but we had to sneak it to Mikey's room, because Mikey isn't aloud to drink when he's hanging about with me. Apparently momma doesn't want me to be in the presence of alcohol, just in case).

We slept in the next morning too, because momma wasn't there to wake us up, because she was working. So we woke at 12, then shuffled our way through to the kitchen for breakfast. That's where it all happened.

We were eating lucky charms. Ray was sitting at the kitchen table eating his; I was sitting on the worktop, next to the sink, picking out all of the colours I don't like. Mikey was standing beside me, still pouring out his.

Ray asked me how things were going with you. I said they were going good, but you hadn't ever written back to me yet. He asked why, but before I was given the opportunity to answer for myself, Mikey slammed the mug of milk he was holding down to the worktop, smashing it, splashing the white liquid across the room. A slice of pottery bounced across the work surface, scraping my skin and bringing a dot of blood to the surface.

"He doesn't write back because he doesn't fucking exist, Ray"

That was his exact words. He hissed them with such venom, such spite, and even though it was addressed to Ray, I knew for a fact he was aiming at me.

Ray asked him what he meant. Mikey said that you were made up- that you were just a figment of my imagination. I said he was lying, but he said I had to face up to the facts. I said I knew the facts already, but he said I didn't. He said that the blossom tree we met under had been cut down when we were little kids, but that's not possible. He said I was mad, crazy, that I deserved to be locked up. He said you were just a stupid little wet dream and that I was a fucking freak.

And then I did it. i still don't know why. I guess I was angry, but probably more because I was scared- scared of what people might do to me. So I grabbed it, that knife that was sitting in the drainer. It was one of those big ones, y'know the horror movie types that nobody ever uses in real life. Well, one of those were sitting in the sink, so I grabbed it and I plunged it forward, watching in terror as it pierced deep into his shoulder, the blood splattering out of the wound like a fountain. But even though I was petrified, even though I hated what I was doing, I just kept doing it. I just kept digging the blade deeper and deeper into Mikey's body and watched as more and more blood spurted from the gaping hole I'd created. And the blood- it was _sickening_, yet I kept making more. I don't know why I did it, but I did. I killed him Frankie. I killed my own brother.

And the whole time, I didn't notice that Ray had been trying to pull me off him, screaming at me to stop, and at some point I leapt the blade behind me, slashing his throat, adding to the blood. All that blood_. Blood_.

And now they're both dead. And I'm so scared. And I don't know what to do. I know Mikey was lying. You are real. Of course you are, how couldn't you be?

But now I'm alone. I'm just sitting at the kitchen table, two corpses by my side, the walls and floor and my clothes painted red. And I'm so god damn scared. I took some pills. I don't know what they were; I just tipped what was left of the jar down my throat. And now I feel sick. I feel like I'm going to throw up, and when I do, the majority of my internal organs will come up with the vomit. And everything aches. And I'm so sleepy. All I want to do right now is curl up with you.

Which I can do, because you are real. You exist. You are the love of my life. We are supposed to be together forever.

Remember the day that I met you under the cherry blossom tree? Remember how we talked for hours. Remember how we laughed and laughed until we were lost of breath? Remember how we shared our first kiss as the sunset and the blue went to pink and the pink went to black? Remember how we rolled through the blossom flowers, our naked bodies tightly pressed together? Remember how you said you loved me? Remember how you said I meant everything to you? Remember how you said nothing could separate us?

Sometimes I can't remember that day. Sometimes it feels too perfect to be real. Maybe it was. Maybe Mikey was right.

But you were right about one thing- nothing can separate us. Well, not any more, at least.

I'm going to go to sleep now. Maybe I'll wake up beneath the cherry blossom tree.

Love you lots. Speak to you soon.

Xo g


End file.
